


Cachet/Genuflect

by seraphichan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Countess Ymir, F/F, POV Jean Kirstein, Page Jean, Princess Krista, just...you'll see lol, poor jeanbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphichan/pseuds/seraphichan
Summary: It’s not that he minds being the princess’s page. In fact it pays quite well. But the amount of coin he makes doesn’t make up for all aspects of his job. Like when the princess and the countess both read the letters they receive from each other.Out loud.While Jean is still in the room.





	

“‘I can’t wait until next we meet’,” Krista finishes reading with a sigh, parchment pressed to her heart.

Jean sighs a well.

Thank goodness that’s over with. It’s not that he minds being the princess’s page. In fact it pays quite well. But the amount of coin he makes doesn’t make up for all aspects of his job. Like when the princess and the countess both read the letters they receive from each other.

Out loud.

While Jean is still in the room.

The greetings and endings aren’t bad, always sweet and full of devotion. It’s the middle parts, the indecent metaphors involving sniffing flowers and the exploration of treasured crevasses, that has Jean blushing from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

“Jean,” Krista calls to him.

Jean lifts his head and sees that she is staring at a new piece of parchment, her quill poised over it, inked and ready to pen a response.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Which do you think is better,” she asks, “a tulip or a daffodil?”

Jean doesn’t want to ask, but knows it is expected of him. “For what, Your Grace?”

“For describing Ymir’s...southern kingdom,” she says with a clever smile.

“I believe either will suffice,” Jean says quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“But which is better?”

Jean does not feel qualified to answer this question as he has never seen, nor does he ever plan on seeing, Countess Ymir in such a state of undress. Though she has taken to sitting in a most unladylike position lately - with her feet propped on her desk and her skirt hiked up above her knees - when she reads Princess Krista’s letters and Jean wonders how long it will be before he can just write the letters for Krista himself.

He shudders and shakes his head to banish the thought from his mind.

“Perhaps an orchid, Your Grace,” he answers after a few moments.

“Oh?”

For kingdom’s sake, she wants him to elaborate.

“It is a rare, beautiful flower that is said to be fickle, but hearty and hale when given the right attention.” He pauses, and then adds, with much mortification, “I also hear it is edible.”

Krista giggles. “How clever. Thank you, Jean,” she says as she returns to writing.

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” he mumbles.

Jean’s knee begins to ache from where he is still prostrating himself on the floor before Krista finishes, signing her name with a flourish. She blows at the paper to help the ink dry, then she folds it and seals it, stamping her crest into the small pool of warm, red wax she drips there.

“If you could please deliver this to Countess Ymir.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he says, taking the letter from her hands and standing.

“Jean.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. It is my duty to serve--”

“No, I mean, thank you, as a friend.”

“A friend?”

Krista laughs. “What else do you call someone who waits around all day for me to write risque letters to my lover?”

“Oh, uh. Right. Exactly.” Jean clears his throat.

“Don’t tell me you thought you had to stay?”

“Well, you never dismissed me, and neither did Lady Ymir, so, I,” Jean sighs, “I’m a fool.”

Krista laughs again. “Let’s stick with friend instead, it’s much more distinguished.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Now, off you go!” she shoos him with a wave of her hands. “And no giving Ymir any help! Your suggestive understanding of flowers is all mine!”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Krista,” she corrects with a smile.

“Krista,” Jean repeats, smiling as well.


End file.
